


Reminiscence

by mrsfrankensteinwinchester



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fill, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfrankensteinwinchester/pseuds/mrsfrankensteinwinchester
Summary: This is the first Prompt Fill for juldooz, on Tumblr, based on a Tumblr Prompt List. The setting was "Waking Up With Amnesia" - AU. This is quite angsty, I am sorry for that.Please tell me what you think! :)





	Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Juldooz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juldooz/gifts).



> This is the first Prompt Fill for juldooz, on Tumblr, based on a Tumblr Prompt List. The setting was "Waking Up With Amnesia" - AU. This is quite angsty, I am sorry for that.  
> Please tell me what you think! :)

* * *

Her head is throbbing. Slowly, her eyelids flutter open. Her vision is blurry; bright lights, people crying, blood stains on the asphalt.

A painful sting coming from the back of her head forces her to close her eyes again. 

"Molly.” is the last thing she hears before she loses her consciousness.

* * *

 

He clings to her hand, tracing his fingers over her soft skin, -halting for a moment to feel her blood pulse underneath his thumb.

Sherlock stops and leans forward to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Molly sighs in her sleep, slightly shifting.

He sinks back down into the chair next to her bed. His back aches, and his stomach is grumbling, but nevertheless he takes her hand again.

The beeping of the monitors and her quiet snorting make him drowsy and soon he falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

The sun rises, dipping the cloudy sky into a deep orange. Molly wakes up, feeling the warm rays dance over her face. She stares up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears that are welling up in the corners of her eyes. Her body hurts from exhaustion. She breathes in and out, trying to calm herself down.

“Molly?” a sudden grip on her hand rips her out off her thoughts. “Oh my God, you are awake.”

She turns her around to inspect the person behind the rich baritone voice. A man with a wild mob of curls and storm gray eyes looks down on her. His lips curl up into a wide smile before he presses his mouth to her knuckles.

Molly's eyes open in bewilderment. Fast, she draws her hand away and hides it under the dotted blanket.

“I do not know you! Who are you? What are you doing in here?” her head is aching again. She winces in pain and reaches out to scale up the dose of morphine she is receiving.

“Molly, it is me Sherlock.” the stranger says softly, yet slightly confused.

“I have already told you, Sir: I do not know you! And if you do not leave I feel urged to call for help.” her voice is low. She stares up at him, for a moment she thinks that there are tears shimmering in his eyes.

He straightens his back, nods, and heads out the room. On the doorstep, he stops to look at her once more. He opens his mouth – as if he is to say something – but closes it again. Instead, he smiles and then he is gone. 

* * *

 

“Temporary amnesia is very common after a head injury, Mister Holmes.” the nurse behind the counter says while sorting files.

“I know that, but what if she does not remember me?” he does not even try to hide his worry.

The nurse looks up from her work and smiles, “I am sure she will.”

Sherlock nods silently before heading over to the waiting area. He falls down into one of the plastic chairs. The phone in his coat pocket starts ringing and he pulls it out fast, checking the display.

“Mycroft.”

“Brother of mine, I am sorry to hear about Miss Hooper. How is she doing?” Mycroft asks.

“She is awake,” Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes for a few seconds, “- the doctors say that the worst has passed by now.”

“Does she remember the accident? My men have been doing the best they can to find the driver but it seems like he has disappeared completely.”

“She does not remember anything, not even me.” his voice cracks but he does not care.

Mycroft inhales sharply “I am positive that it is only temporary; do not worry too much.”

“I do hope so as well. Thank you for your call, Mycroft.” Sherlock is about to hang up when his brother interrupts:

“Shall I come over?”

The tears in Sherlock's eyes burn horribly and he tries to suppress a sob.

“Yes please,” he answers in a whisper.

* * *

 

 Mycroft finds his brother in the waiting hall, face buried in his hands; his entire form shaking. Fast, he sinks down in a chair next to him, grabbing him by the shoulders to hold him.

“Everything will be all right,” Mycroft promises, softly rocking his brother in his arms.

Sherlock sobs uncontrollably against his shoulder.

They continue to sit like this for a while until a nurse approaches them to inform Sherlock that Molly has asked for him.

“She wanted to know where the stranger from this morning had gone,” the nurse explains.

“So she still does not remember anything?” Sherlock rubs his eyes.

“I am afraid so, Sir. But let's not lose hope.”

* * *

 

Molly watches him moving slowly towards the door. He seems insecure, worried, a little frightened. She smiles when he ruffles through his hair one last time, making sure that he looks at least somehow acceptable. The purple shirt he is wearing is wrinkled but it suits him well, she thinks. 

When he enters the room, she sits up straight, greeting him with a warm smile.

“Hello.” she says and points towards the empty chair next to her bed.

He crosses the room and sits down. “How are you?” he asks.

“Well, my head is still hurting. But apart from that, I am fine.”

Sherlock stays silent, for once in his life he does not know what to say.

“I am sorry that I cannot remember you.” her voice fills the silence, “I barely remember my name and where I am from. I do not even know why I am here, what I do for a living, or where I live.” her voice trembles, “What if I never regain my memories?”

He takes her hand at those words, “You will, I promise,” he says.

Her eyes lock with his. Carefully, she touches his cheek, her fingers tracing along his cheekbone. 

He leans into her touch, closing his eyes. “I love you,” he whispers and presses a short kiss to the palm of her hand.

* * *

 

Molly tosses and turns in her sleep this night. She is haunted by nightmares; she is sitting in a car cheerfully singing along to a song, it is dark outside; the stars are glimmering through the big woolly clouds, but suddenly there is a flash of light. A car is racing towards her. Molly tries to hit the brakes, but it is too late already. A loud crash; the sound of metal rubbing against metal; glass shattering, then silence. She is paralyzed, her body is screaming in pain; her hands are shaking when she tries to open the car door. She falls outside, hitting the cold asphalt. Molly tries to focus; her head hurts and there is a ringing in her ears. Her vision is becoming blurry. She groans as she attempts to get up on her feet, but she is too weak. Sirens are going off in the distance, people are shouting her name.

“I am here,” she says, barely audible. Tears are slipping from her eyes before they fall close.

Everything around her is black, his voice is like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, “Molly.”

She wakes up with his name on her lips, “Sherlock.”

Her mind is overwhelmed when her memories are slowly restored; names, places, faces, smells, feelings.

She remembers the day her dad died, it was a sunny day in August; the day she finished university; the moment when she first held Toby at the animal shelter, immediately falling in love with the tiny ball of fur in her hands. She recognizes the melody of the song, that was playing in her dream, it was her mothers favorite.

Then, she starts to remember him. The first day she met him, their first date; their first kiss; the look of hurt in his eyes as she left his flat in anger after their first row. She remembers the softness of his skin against hers, his eyes, his smile; the way his nose crinkles when he is concentrating or how the light illuminated the scars on his back each morning when they woke up next to each other.

Molly rolls over to grab her phone from the nightstand. She stares at the lock-screen; a picture of him and her in front of his parents house. She starts to giggle as she spots Mycroft in the background, looking through the curtains of the kitchen window, an expression of confusion on his face.

Fast, she unlocks her phone, now being able to recall the PIN.

She goes through her pictures, most of them are random snaps of Sherlock at different times of the day, in some he is asleep on the couch after a long case, in others he is holding Rosie or playing with her in the park.

Her smile grows wider when she spots the picture of them in Paris. She remembers that he did not want to pose in front of the Eiffel Tower, like couples always do. Mary and John were enlightened to see Sherlock finally obeying, and happily took a picture of them. Sherlock held her in his arms, and while Molly was smiling into the camera, his eyes rested on her; a fond smile dancing upon his lips.

Molly shoots a quick glance towards the clock, 4 AM. She hesitates for a moment before she presses the call button. He answers immediately.

“Hello?” he sounds sleepy.

“Do you remember the night you first told me you loved me? It was raining and I had forgotten to bring my jacket, so you handed me your coat, and walked me home. We were on London Bridge when you suddenly stopped. I asked you what was wrong and you just stared at me, I could see how your mind was rattling, and then you simply said: _I love you so much, Molly Hooper, please do not ever leave me._ ” her voice is wobbly.

Molly patiently waits for an answer; time passes and she fears that he might have fallen asleep again.

“Sherlock?” she asks and presses the phone closer to her ear. Silence.

Suddenly the door of her room is teared open and he bursts inside, rushes over to her.

“You remember,” he breathes out. His cheeks are red from the cold.

She nods and puts the phone aside. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her hair. Molly shifts in her bed, so that there is enough space for the two of them. Fast, he slips out off his coat and shoes and sinks down beside her.

“I thought I had lost you,” he mumbles.

Her head is pressed against his chest; she inhales his scent as she listens to his racing heart.

She moves so that she is able look into his eyes. “You will never lose me, Sherlock Holmes.” she whispers against his lips.

He smiles at her like he did when they were in Paris, before he leans in to kiss her.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes belong to me! :D


End file.
